by Parker Bilal
‘Something,’ muttered Crane, sitting opposite the other woman. Savannah was drawing a question mark in the air.
‘Right, so he hired you, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘But you’re like old friends or something?’
The tone in her voice gave Crane pause. She was digging for something.
‘He told you that?’
Savannah nodded. ‘He said you were like old friends. I mean, I think he was trying to put me at ease, you know?’
‘It was a long time ago. We were kids.’
‘That’s great. I mean, like, he’s so famous! We went to a couple of readings? In, like, bookshops? People just love him. They all wanted his autograph and stuff.’
‘Sounds like you got along.’
‘Well, I wasn’t into being a groupie, you know?’ Savannah flushed lightly. ‘But he was a lord and all, right? We went out together a few times, all of us. Marco would bring along a friend sometimes to make up a foursome, but it became clear that they just wanted to be together.’
‘Was it mutual?’
‘I guess so.’ The red hair swayed as she tilted her head. ‘Howie didn’t like talking about personal stuff like that. The opposite of me, really. I just talk.’
It was almost as if she were speaking about someone in the past. Crane wondered if Savannah was aware of that.
‘Did you ever visit his family home?’
‘Oh, yeah, the castle.’ Savannah waved off the description before it was out of her mouth. ‘I mean, it’s not really a castle, but to a small town girl from Virginia it was pretty close.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘We went up there a couple of times. It was real nice and his mother is amazing. She just took such good care of us.’ Savannah scrunched up her nose. ‘Truth is I was always like the third wheel. You know? Staring out the window while they carried on. I got tired of it, to be honest. The last time I left a day early. I told a little lie? I said an old friend was passing through London.’
‘How long ago was this?’
‘Just before she went missing.’
‘So you left her up there with Marco?’
‘And his mother.’
‘His mother, yes.’ Crane had her notebook out to compare dates. ‘Marco said that she went missing around the nineteenth, so this was the weekend before that? The sixteenth and seventeenth?’
‘I think so, if that’s when he says.’
‘Didn’t you notice her not being around?’
‘Really, I didn’t think about it.’ The thin shoulders lifted and fell. ‘It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, missing a couple of days is no big deal.’
‘You weren’t worried?’
‘Not really. She’s a big girl.’
‘Marco mentioned an uncle of hers …’
‘Oh, god! Now he was a real piece of work.’ Savannah was shaking her head as if trying to get rid of a memory. ‘He just showed up out of nowhere. Said he had a message for Howie, from her folks.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She said he wanted to take her home.’
‘You heard them talking?’
‘Well, most of it was in Arabic. At least I think it was Arabic.’ The thin shoulders rose and fell. ‘I couldn’t really understand.’
‘Right, but she seemed stressed about him being here?’
‘Oh, yes. I mean, I’m not even sure if he was an uncle or a cousin. I think over there it’s pretty much the same thing.’
‘Uh huh. What was he like? Can you describe him?’
‘He must be at least ten years older than her, maybe more.’
‘And how would you characterise his interest in her, from what you saw?’
‘I don’t know. To me there was always something a little off about him. I mean, I think that out there it’s okay to marry your cousin, right? I mean, more than okay, everyone does it.’
‘So you’re saying that he was interested in marrying her?’
Savannah was suddenly unsure. ‘Like I said, it was difficult to know what was really going on between them. And Howie didn’t like talking about it.’
‘But you got the impression he didn’t approve of the way she was living here?’
‘That’s it exactly. Right from the get-go he was trying to tell us what to do. I mean, not just her, even me. He kind of assumed he had the right.’
‘How did Howeida – Howie, react?’
‘That’s the thing.’ Savannah’s eyes dropped. She began picking at the cuticles around her fingernails. ‘She was scared. I’d never seen her like that. She was really scared.’
‘Did you get a name for this guy, the cousin or uncle?’
‘Abdul hah-something. I forget.’
‘Any idea where he was staying? Anything at all?’
‘The thing is, when he first showed up he was really sweet. He even took us both for dinner.’
‘When was this?’
‘You mean, the date?’ She reached for her phone. ‘The seventh.’
‘Where was this? I mean, do you remember where you ate?’
‘Oh, just across the street, the nice Italian place? I think he wanted to make a big impression. Anyway, he wouldn’t leave her alone after that. He would follow her. That was creepy.’
‘Then what happened to him?’
‘I don’t know. He just disappeared. Weird, like I said.’ Savannah fell silent for a moment. ‘So, what do you think happened to her?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Crane, getting to her feet. ‘But I’m going to find out.’
9
Archie Narayan was in buoyant mood, which for him was saying something. He had the kind of jovial radiance you might associate with a newly minted grandfather, not a man who spent his days carving up cadavers.
‘Just like old times, almost.’
‘Steady on,’ said Kelly Marsh.
Archie tilted his head at her. ‘This one is beginning to grow on me.’
‘And there was me thinking we had something special,’ said Drake.
‘Time moves on for all of us,’ lamented Archie. ‘I take it you’re here for our Mary Stuart.’
‘Mary Stuart?’ queried Drake.
‘She lost her head, remember?’
‘A history lesson? Really?’ Drake glanced over at Marsh. She seemed resigned. Maybe she and Archie Narayan had more in common than he realised.
‘I warn you,’ said the pathologist, ‘coming here asking for miracles is never a good plan. She’s fresh. Well, as fresh as can be under the circumstances. Literally just come through the door. Hardly had time to clean her off.’ He squinted at Marsh. ‘I understood this wasn’t a priority.’
‘You heard that from DCI Pryce?’
‘He is still the one calling the tunes, isn’t he?’
‘Looks that way.’
Archie gave a theatrical sigh, a hint perhaps at a frustrated career in amateur dramatics. Nothing about Archie would surprise Drake. ‘These days the blue line is so thin it’s more of a blue rinse.’
This struck a chord with Marsh. ‘Rising knife crime, mental-health statistics through the roof and a budget that has been slashed to ribbons. Yeah, I would say that was fairly accurate.’
‘I hate to break up your love-in here, but there was a time when a severed head warranted some kind of urgency,’ said Drake.
‘Ah, that’s precisely the point, old bean, changing times and all that.’
Marsh was in agreement. ‘What we have now is the management of unmitigated disaster.’
‘Sad, the lack of faith in one so young, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ said Drake.
They were coming down the dark stairs to the basement, which always had a dank feeling to them despite the modern fittings and the discreet lighting. Archie punched a code into the keypad and led the way to the darkened room. The smell of chemicals hit Drake’s nostrils with a jolt. Familiar, in the way that the taste of last night’s vindaloo can bu
bble to the surface like gas in a geyser. The autopsy room crackled with electric energy. Neon lights buzzed, refrigerators hummed, a gigantic extractor whirred overhead, and in the corner a centrifuge spun in regular cycles, up to who knows what mischief. Only one of the four dissection tables in the centre of the room was occupied.
With a showman’s flourish, Archie pulled back the sheet to reveal the steel basin and its contents. There wasn’t much left of the head. The skull had been sliced open and the brain removed.
‘Meet Mary Stuart.’
‘So you said. Your idea, I take it?’
Archie shrugged. ‘Makes a change from Jane Doe. It seemed fitting. The realm under threat. Catholic queen challenging Elizabeth for the throne. That’s what got her killed.’
As he looked down at the human remains lying on the examination table Drake was struck by a feeling of dread, as though the past was reaching out to him.
Archie stared at Drake. ‘I know it’s an obvious question, but why are you here actually?’
Marsh said, ‘We’re going off the record on this one, doc.’
‘I don’t know what that means.’ Archie folded his arms.
‘It means I’m not here, actually.’ Drake was leaning over for a closer look. The head was slightly deformed in shape, as if it had been crushed, pressed to one side.
‘Is it her?’ Marsh was leaning over his shoulder.
‘Is it who?’ Archie asked.
Drake wasn’t sure. The skin had a greenish sheen to it and in death people rarely resemble themselves in life.
‘I think this might be Zelda,’ he murmured.
‘Zelda?’ Archie frowned. ‘Your witness from the Malevich case?’
‘We had a body in at the time, found near Brighton.’
‘Of course I remember. That would have been taken care of elsewhere.’
‘Can you still access the body for tests?’
‘Possibly. That case was unresolved.’
‘So you could do a DNA match?’
Archie straightened up. ‘If I had reason to. As I recall the body was matched to items from the victim’s flat.’
‘I could be wrong, but I think this is her.’ Drake moved round the table. ‘She would have had to be frozen to preserve it like this, right?’
‘That’s the only way to account for the relatively good shape she’s in.’
‘How do you explain the discolouration?’ Marsh asked.
Archie glanced at her. ‘The colour and the mould are indications of humidity, meaning the head wasn’t perfectly sealed, wherever it was kept. If I was to guess, I would say she has been moved around for short periods, not long. Slight defrosting and refreezing.’
‘Where could she have been kept?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. A large home freezer would do the trick, beside the pork chops.’
‘Charming,’ muttered Marsh.
‘A commercial freezer can produce temperatures as low as minus forty degrees centigrade. Once out of that environment thawing would commence, and with that deterioration, which explains the pallor. This suggests that she had been left for periods of time exposed to room temperature, then possibly re-frozen, which would suggest she was moved. The worst of it occurred on the train, where the elevated heat would have accelerated the process. Also, the person doing the transporting didn’t know, or think, about moisture. She was in a plastic bag that didn’t allow for ventilation.’
‘Kelly mentioned something about pink teeth? Did you manage to confirm it?’
‘Ah, yes.’ Archie moved around, reaching for a pair of clamps. He pressed the jaw open. Drake recoiled as the smell hit him again, the chemical sting starting to tangle with the contents of his stomach.
‘What exactly are we talking about?’
‘It’s a side effect of arsenic trioxide. It was used to kill the nerves.’
‘So that would at least confirm she’s from Eastern Europe.’
‘Which would tie into your theory that it’s her, wouldn’t it?’ Archie withdrew his hand holding the clamps. The head’s jaw remained at an awkward angle. Drake stared at the open mouth. He had to remind himself that this had once been a living person.
‘What else can you tell us at this stage?’
‘I would say that she was frozen relatively quickly.’
‘And how long between coming out of the freezer and landing on the Tube?’
‘A matter of hours. Hard to say.’
Drake rested one hand on the steel table. The cold ran up his arm.
Sensing that he needed a moment, Marsh stepped in. ‘What else can you tell us?’
‘The skin shows traces of cleaning fluid, some kind of disinfectant. That would remove any excess blood and dirt. Neat, methodical, not frenzied. This man knew what he was doing. The spinal chord: the bone has been chipped in places and pulverised in others. Evidence, I would say, of the use of a mechanical device.’
‘What, like a wood saw?’
Archie looked at her and shrugged. ‘A narrow blade, straight saw would be my guess. We’ve taken enhanced microscopic pictures to compare and work out exactly what kind of blade he used.’ Archie stepped back to survey the head. ‘Looks like our killer went to a lot of trouble to keep her.’
‘Anything at all about who she was, where she came from?’
‘Well, what can I tell you?’ Archie looked at Marsh. ‘She was a Capricorn, with a fondness for Cocker Spaniels and a weakness for the good life; Dom Perignon champagne and Beluga caviar from the Caspian Sea. She summered in the Riviera and skiied on the Italian side of the French Alps.’ Archie gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Sorry, couldn’t help it. All that Sherlock nonsense really gets on my wick.’
‘Very droll,’ said Marsh.
Archie’s eyes met Drake’s over the table. ‘We’ll know more when we do a DNA test.’
‘But it could be her?’
‘It could be.’
Drake felt his head spinning. He stared at the lump of rotting flesh and found himself fighting the urge to throw up. He realised that, irrational though it was, he had always believed she could still be alive somewhere. The DNA tests on the washed-up corpse could have been bungled. It wouldn’t be the first time. But now he was looking right at her. He knew in his heart it was her.
‘People look different in life than in death,’ Archie said gently. ‘I don’t need to tell you that. But rest assured I’ll do everything I can.’
‘I know you will.’
‘You were close,’ said Archie.
Drake stared down at her. ‘She was a witness. Nothing more.’ Archie and Kelly exchanged glances, but neither of them said anything. Then Archie cleared his throat.
‘One thing I would stress, regarding the freezing. It had to happen quickly, after the head was removed. Literally within hours.’
‘But you’re saying she was moved.’
Archie shrugged. ‘Could have been a refrigerated van, say, or a cooler box of some kind. Whoever did this took great care not to allow decomposition to occur. It’s almost …’ Archie broke off.
‘Almost?’ repeated Marsh.
‘Almost as if they cared, I was going to say.’
‘Caring killers,’ muttered Drake. ‘Now there’s a novelty.’
10
They left the coroner’s office and walked down Black Prince Road, under the railway arch to a café on a corner with a striped green awning and a vaguely Mediterranean look about it. Marsh set a mug of coffee in front of Drake as she sat down.
‘You were looking a little pale back there.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that. Must be out of practice.’
Marsh sipped her coffee thoughtfully. ‘You really cared about her.’
‘You ever done any undercover work?’
Marsh shook her head. ‘Not very good at lying, me.’
Drake turned his coffee mug in circles as his mind went back. Lying had come easy, perhaps because he had been trying to imagine himself a different life for as
long as he could remember.
‘You have to be on all the time. Never let the mask slip. You have to believe you are who you are pretending to be.’
‘Must get tricky,’ she said. ‘Emotionally.’
‘The thing about trust is that it works both ways, no matter what you thought when you started out. Someone’s trust means something to you.’
Marsh was watching him carefully. ‘What are you saying, that your loyalties are divided?’
Drake remembered Zelda’s eyes, how they would brighten. It didn’t happen often, but there were moments, when she thought there was hope, a chance of a new life. The image of the half-lidded eyes flooded back. The head on the steel tray. It wasn’t trust that undid you, it was being able to give someone hope.
‘We needed her, but I wanted to help her get out.’
‘And that was never a problem?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, there’s a conflict of interests right there. On the one hand you want to help the girl and at the same time you need her to testify.’
‘The two things are not mutually exclusive.’
‘Testifying against someone like Goran Malevich can get you killed.’
Drake sipped his coffee but said nothing. Marsh seemed to have grown, in confidence and experience.
‘You felt it was your fault she was killed,’ said Marsh.
‘You’re beginning to sound like Ray.’
‘You don’t need to be a shrink to see that you’re in pain.’
‘When did you get so wise?’
‘Comes with the stripes.’
‘I thought I was done with all this,’ said Drake.
‘Somebody obviously thinks different.’
‘That’s the bit I’m having trouble getting my head round.’
‘You mean who would go to all that trouble of saving the head all this time?’
Drake stared out of the window. ‘I keep going back over everyone I can remember, but there’s nobody who was that close to her, nobody who would take it so … personally.’
‘She had no family over here? What about friends? Lovers?’
